One Taste of Scandal (17 page)

He narrowed his eyes, but kept his voice calm. “As you say, they are not friends at the moment.”

Alys’s look had changed, from one of matronly judgment to sympathetic sisterhood. “I am very sorry. Do you love her?”

He put his hands on his knees and leaned forward, holding the weight of his upper body on his lower. “I thought she would be a good companion. I thought she was better off with me than in her brother’s household. It seemed to make sense.”

She shook her head. “A young lady wants to hear of love, not sense.”

“As you say. She said no, after all.” His chest ached.

She put her elbow on the arm of the chair and leaned her chin into her hand. “We are both tired, you and I. My sister Matilda is my burden, and Rose, who always has trouble with her lungs at this time of year. What is on your mind?”

“It is too soon to rid my thoughts of Magdalene,” he said. “Her brother struck her not long ago. I’m afraid for her. I am glad she is going. It cannot be soon enough.”

“The Scandalous Crosses,” Alys said with a sad smile. “Magdalene is a fiery personality herself.”

“I cannot offer her what she wants.”

“What does she want?”

“Society. She is very proud of being part of it.”

“You are as well born as she. Better, actually.”

“You and I both know that isn’t true,” Judah said.

“I do not. After all, I am a tradesman’s daughter. You are at least half gently born, through your mother.”

“Legitimacy is everything,” he said. “Unless you are a royal bastard, I suppose. But I am not.”

“No one in this family will ever tell,” Alys said. “You can hold your head high.”

“No, I can’t. I work for a living. I want to work for a living. I want to be what I am. I am perfectly content with myself. I thought Magdalene fit my life. She has other ideas about her place in the world. That is all.” He wished to stand, to pace, to go outside, but he could not be rude to Hatbrook’s wife. And his employer.

“Knowing what you want is at least half the battle,” Alys said. “I understand from Hatbrook that you could marry Courtnay’s daughter. Victoria, I think? Perhaps when you have reconciled yourself with your present disappointment you can revisit her.”

“Thank you, sister,” Judah said, an edge in his tone. “Have you picked out a wife for Gawain, too?”

“I do not believe he is in the market for a wife,” she said.

“I do not want to marry.” Was he telling a lie? At least Gawain had a mistress. He had wanted to find his father, not find a woman. Besides, Gawain had money to spend on a house and clothes for his mistress.

“Do not fool yourself. You do. And trust me, a good marriage is such a precious thing.”

“I am sure it is.”

“You can be sure,” she returned. “I hope to see you for dinner at Hatbrook House tomorrow evening.”

“I shall be there.”

She stood and offered him her cheek to kiss. “Have faith, Judah. It will become easier in time. But I would not look for a wife inside this establishment.”

He shuddered. “I have no intention of doing so.”

 

It had been a couple of weeks since Judah had seen Eddy Jackson bear the wounds of recent battle, so he was disheartened to see the boy’s bloodstained collar when he arrived for his newspaper that foggy, gray Wednesday. The weather suited his mood after the many disasters of the day before and he suspected the same for the newsboy. At least the blood on Eddy’s collar was dry.

“New details about the Mitchelstown Massacre,” the lad shouted, drawing the interest of a wild-eyed young man in checked trousers, who threw him a penny and received a paper.

Judah had considered going to Magdalene’s home in a hansom, but he would not throw himself on that altar again. She might not want to see him today. He had thrashed the sheets from their place tucked under his mattress the night before, wondering why she had defended him so fervently if she didn’t care for him.

“Where is Miss Cross?” Eddy asked with a cheery grin somewhat diminished by a split lip. “She is usually here before you.”

Judah glanced around. Trafalgar Square seemed busier than usual. He saw a number of tangle-bearded men wandering the rain-darkened tarmacadam with flyers. Women too, in clothing so black and disheveled you’d have thought them birds caked with coal dust. Lifting his chin to one trio of men, he asked, “Who are they?”

“Agitators,” Eddy said. “There’s always fellows who are unhappy around here.”

“Who was unhappy with you?” Judah asked, poking at Eddy’s collar.

“Oh, that’s not my blood, guv. I’m learning.” He put up his fists in a pugilist’s stance.

If the boy had any actual muscles on his skinny frame, Judah would eat his muffler. “I see you’ve kept your cap this time.”

“He needs a muffler and new shoes,” Magdalene said, coming up behind him. “I would give you some of my nephews’ clothing, but they are smaller than you are.”

Not so much smaller though. Eddy did not look like he ever got enough food.

“Good morning,” he said to her.

With a nod in his direction, Magdalene reached into her pocket and pulled out a steaming cloth.

“Just one potato this morning, Eddy. I’m sorry. We need to do the marketing.”

“Oh, thank you, miss. One potato is lovely.” Eddy tucked it in his jacket pocket.

Judah handed him money for the paper, noticing Magdalene looked around uneasily. Because of him? No, he didn’t think so. She seemed to be looking at a man with rectangles of wood covering his torso in front and in back, a human sign.

After Judah received his paper, he nodded to Eddy and took Magdalene’s arm, since she seemed to be lost in thought. At least she didn’t pull away. “What is wrong?” He heard the lilt of Irish voices raised in anger as they crossed the Square. “Do you recognize any of these people?”

“They are trouble,” she said simply. “I wonder how safe Trafalgar Square is right now. I worry about Eddy. He’s so small.”

He felt the slim bones of her upper arm under cloth. She was small too, would be defenseless in many of the places he’d found himself over the last several years. “He’s a tough street rat. He’ll know where to burrow if necessary.”

“I don’t like it. You saw the flyers, didn’t you? The Social Democratic Federation and the Irish National League have scheduled a rally here in the Square for Sunday. And Eddy sells papers here every day.”

“Why are you so concerned about him? Missing your nephews?”

She rubbed at the back of her neck with her free hand as if it pained her. “I always worry about boys of that age.”

“Why?”

She sighed. “The recklessness. When I was that age, I was quite wild. Climbing trees, running races. I was not a young lady.”

He smiled. “I can believe that.”

She loosened his grip by twisting gently, and then pulled her arm away, though she stayed close. He put up his umbrella to shield them from the misty rain, and in order to keep her close.

Without looking in his direction, she spoke. “One day, we played follow-the-leader. I was the leader. It had rained all morning, but stupidly, I took the other children, all boys, up an ancient rock wall. The stones were slimy and slippery. All the more fun, I thought. But we were making the climb a race as usual, and one of the boys was on a tall part of the wall, a good eight feet or so.”

“He fell?”

“Yes. He hit his head on one of the fallen rocks. That is why he died, from hitting his head at the bottom of the wall.”

He blew out a foggy breath. “I am sorry. That must have been terribly upsetting.”

“I became a proper young lady overnight.”

“And now?”

“I hate seeing boys put in harm’s way,” she said with a shrug. “There is trouble coming. Gatherings and demonstrations aren’t allowed, you know, but they happen anyway.”

“Why Trafalgar Square?”

“It is where the West End and East End meet, geographically, but there have been battles with the police recently all over the place.”

“I’ve seen the papers, of course. I am glad I don’t belong to one of the clubs that have been attacked by ruffians.”

“A soldier not spoiling for battle?”

“I don’t understand anything about the Irish question. Things seemed tidier in India. The Pathans attacked the villages and we fought back. A mad, warlike bunch of tribes. But here, the warlike types are all mixed up with the politicians. It’s not for me.”

“They are also agitating about unemployment and worker issues.”

“Redcake’s is an elite establishment. We hire good people and pay them very well. Best treatment of bakers in the city. We offer women respectable employment, no matter what Miss Betsy Popham wants to claim.”

“Now I have your dander up.” She smiled.

“I would terminate her instantly, if she wasn’t friends with the marchioness,” Judah said.

“I do not blame you. A woman scorned is a power unto herself.”

“Thank you for standing up for me, Magdalene,” Judah said, using her Christian name deliberately.

She didn’t seem to notice. “You deserved no less. But you ought to have some concern for local politics. After all, the anarchists could come after what you hold dear next. You never know.”

“D
o you think it is possible anarchist violence could touch Redcake’s?” Judah asked Alys that evening. Hatbrook had agreed when Alys suggested they forgo their male prerogative of brandy and cigars after dinner and go right to tea in the parlor, since Judah had to work the next day.

He suspected, however, that Hatbrook would dearly love a private chat. His brother had been staring at him with a mixture of irritation and ire all evening.

“I shouldn’t think so,” Alys said. “Everyone is well paid and we do not employ unskilled labor. Also, there are the iron gates that are locked each evening and bars over the windows in the alleyway.”

“I walk through Trafalgar Square every morning. A huge demonstration is planned for Sunday.”

“Why don’t you come down to Heathfield for the weekend?” Hatbrook suggested. “You can lick your wounds there and stay out of the way of the police.”

“Lick his wounds?” Beth asked from the piano. “What wounds? Judah?”

Gawain, seated at the end of one rose sofa, put his head theatrically into the crook of his elbow. Judah heard him mutter something like, “Women.”

“Michael, I shared that with you in confidence,” Alys said.

“Judah knows better,” Hatbrook retorted. “Really. I cannot believe you proposed to a connection of Lady Bricker.”

“My sister is far more culpable, along with Mr. Bliven. Really, darling, you hold on to your anger much longer than you should. Why does Lady Bricker taint Magdalene Cross?” Alys asked.

“They are very friendly,” Hatbrook said. “You know they are. And she is Manfred Cross’s sister. I have had cause to run into him, as well you know, last New Year’s Eve.”

“He is a child compared to the other parties who were involved,” Alys said. “Really, Michael. That was nearly a year ago.”

Judah glanced back and forth, back and forth, as they exchanged these remarks. He understood very little of it.

But Gawain stood, after a last sidelong glance at Beth. “I must go. Thank you for a pleasant evening.”

“Gawain,” Alys said. “What is wrong?”

“I would prefer never to hear the name ‘Bliven’ mentioned again. In this, I agree with Hatbrook.”

“How much money did he take from you?” Alys asked. “I’ve always wondered.”

Gawain glared at his sister. “Shield? Care to join me? I believe we had business at our club.”

“Not me,” Judah said equably. “My brother will not be able to rest until he has his consultation with me.”

“Why would you want to marry anyway?” Gawain asked.

Judah could tell he planned to elaborate, but Alys was smirking at him.

“Yes, for you, it worked out very well indeed, but for us young men building our fortunes, marriage is a distraction.”

“I did marry a slightly older man,” Alys allowed.

“I need a brandy,” Hatbrook muttered. “Beth, do you not need your rest?”

“This is as entertaining as a theatrical performance,” Beth said brightly. “I am not going anywhere.”

“I am sure this conversation is far too mature for your ears,” he said.

“I would already be out if not for Mother’s death,” she said, fluffing her black skirts.

Gawain seemed riveted by the graceful movements of her hands.

“Nonetheless,” Hatbrook said. “Why don’t you play us a little something. Music would be very soothing.”

Alys looked at Gawain. “Weren’t you leaving?”

Gawain smirked at his sister. “Music would be nice.”

Judah sank deeper into his chair. He could not imagine that Gawain would be allowed to court Beth. But this evening, Hatbrook’s censure was focused on him.

“A Scandalous Cross?” Hatbrook muttered into his ear, joining him on the sofa.

“She has been the soul of propriety. In fact, she even shared with me the very event that molded her into a young lady, instead of an absolute hoyden.”

“So no risk of a baby coming?”

Judah had turned away, but he jerked his head back around. “What?”

Hatbrook held up his hand, palm down. “If that was an issue, it would change the situation.”

“No. I should not have thought it was polite to ask me that.”

“We are brothers. I do not want secrets between us.”

“At least not my secrets,” Judah said. “I offered for her because I thought us compatible, but she has other ideas about her life.”

“I am told her family intermarries,” Hatbrook said. “In and out of a set of titles.”

“I expect you are correct,” Judah said. “I am sorry I became involved.” As soon as he said it, he knew that was a lie. He had enjoyed becoming involved, and had been happy all day because she had still met him in the Square, despite the way she had opened his eyes to the anarchist threat.

“Are you still having dinner at Gerrick’s house Friday?”

“I don’t see why not. I need more friends than just Gawain.”

Hatbrook sighed. “The Honorable Geoffrey Cander, again, Judah?”

He shrugged. “Why not Gerrick himself? Did you know he was a military man? Served in Egypt when he was young. He wasn’t in line for the title then. An older brother who died, I think.”

“At least the earl is a busier man than his sons,” Hatbrook said. “I could tolerate a friendship with him. He seems reasonable. Quite ashamed of his daughter.”

Judah almost covered his chuckle. “You must be having a tough time, down at the Farm with a houseful of expectant women and their relatives.”

“Hell on earth,” Hatbrook said in a low voice. “You have no idea. The conversations they have are appalling.”

Judah didn’t think it sounded too bad. A houseful of family. But perhaps a house full of in-laws was different than one’s original family. He wouldn’t want to live with George Cross. “I wish you luck.”

“Thank you. Do not think you can escape the Farm at Christmas, no matter how many women or babies are in residence.”

“Redcake’s is open on Christmas,” Judah said, feeling very satisfied with this.

“It shall have to do without you,” Hatbrook said. “Upon my life, you will be there.”

“I have responsibilities.”

“Judah,” Beth called, from her position next to Alys at the piano. “You had better come home for Christmas. It will ruin the holiday entirely if you do not.”

Judah squinted into his sister’s eyes. What a little manipulator she was. “I will think about it.”

“Hmmm,” Hatbrook said as Beth squealed in delight.

Judah patted his brother’s knee. “I had better say good night. Good luck to you.”

“I will take all the good wishes I can muster,” Hatbrook returned.

 

Judah was astounded to discover the earl served no spirits when closeted with his male guests after dinner on Friday night. Geoffrey Cander dropped into the chair next to him with a sigh and handed Judah a cigar.

“Irritating, isn’t this edict?”

Judah set the cigar down. The room was already blue with smoke. He didn’t see a reason to add to it. “What?”

“This is Father’s way of sending a message to Cousin George. Drunkenness will not be tolerated.”

Judah looked down the table, to see the earl in deep discussion with George Cross. “Is it a family disease?”

“We have a large extended family. One or two in every generation seem to have trouble holding their liquor. Since you see Cousin Magdalene every day, and have seen Cousin George’s handiwork, there is no point in keeping the truth behind closed doors.”

“I will not be seeing her much longer.”

“No. That family is dispersing. Strange how one quiet soul can hold a family together.”

“I agree it is an interesting phenomenon. My sister seems to be holding my brother and me together.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” Manfred Cross said, leaning across the table between two candelabra.

“She is about to be presented,” Judah told him. “I’m sure you will see her at all the balls next year.”

“Will you descend on Society then too?” Manfred asked with a grin.

“By Jove, I hope it isn’t necessary,” Judah growled. “Surely Hatbrook will be in Town.”

“She will need a chaperone,” Geoffrey Cander said.

“I’m not suitable. Maybe our aunt will come.”

“Not Lady Hatbrook?”

“No. She will be presenting my brother with offspring about then.”

“That is the difference with a small family versus a large one,” Geoffrey Cander said. “Finding a likely chaperone is never a problem.”

“You could marry,” Manfred suggested. “Very quickly. Then she would have a chaperone.”

Judah narrowed his eyes. Did Manfred know about his proposal to Magdalene? No, he seemed innocent of subterfuge. “Can one still run off to Gretna Green these days?”

“Not as easily. There is a residence requirement for marriage in Scotland now,” Geoffrey Cander said. “Since before we were born, actually. You’d have to be able to hide with the chit for three weeks.”

Judah laughed. “Why do you know that?”

“I did wonder,” Manfred said, setting his cigar on an ashtray. He looked bilious green.

“You don’t know the story?” Geoffrey Cander grinned. “I would not exist if not for Gretna Green. My great-grandparents March were married there, or rather, Coldstream, which was a similar destination back in the day.”

“People still go to Scotland to marry.”

“For the romance of the thing, and to marry young girls. Personally, I’d prefer to go somewhere warm. Maybe run off to Italy.”

Judah laughed. “Planning a scandalous marriage?”

“As soon as I can find a racy young heiress to wed me,” he said, smacking his lips.

“You don’t need an heiress,” Manfred said.

“I disagree, old boy. I have funds from my grandmother, but not enough to live in true style.”

Manfred and Judah shared a glance. The Honorable Geoffrey Cander was very well insulated from the difficulties they faced.

The earl cleared his throat. “Shall we join the ladies?”

The men all stood with alacrity, the after-dinner hour not being as convivial without spirits. Judah had been seated too far away from Magdalene to speak to her, so he took the opportunity to sit with her on the piano bench, where she was working her way rather inexpertly through a Mozart piece.

“I am out of practice,” she said, laughing. “Too much baking.”

“At least I recognized the composer,” Judah said. Her cheerfulness drew him despite her rejection. He’d have thought he would want to avoid her but the reality was quite the opposite.

“That is something. I did want to speak to you.”

“Oh?” He straightened his waistcoat.

“I was at Nelson’s Column before you this morning, and I tried to speak to Eddy about Sunday. I’m worried about the protestors. You know the police will be out, and they are saying the army is coming too.”

“Did you make him promise to stay home?” He brushed a speck of ash from his coat.

“He would not promise. He laughed at me, Captain, and wondered why I thought a protest would be any less rough than where he lived.”

A list of Eddy’s injuries over the past months flipped through Judah’s brain. “What do you want me to do? Take my sword, put on my old uniform, and stand guard?”

She smiled wanly. “Maybe?”

“Does he think the protestors will buy newspapers? Maybe we can persuade him to sell elsewhere.”

She shook her head. “They are very territorial about their spots. To move would likely guarantee a beating.”

He kept himself from touching her hand by ruffling through the sheath of scores and looking for easier music. “How about this then? I go to the Square, just as Eddy is getting there, and buy up his entire stock of papers. I’ll insist he help me bring them to Redcake’s. He’ll have no reason to go back until Monday. He can spend the day in some less dangerous entertainment.”

“That’s a marvelous idea, Captain. Do it, please.”

“Very well. Do you know when he reaches the Square?”

“About seven, I believe. After he has made deliveries to private customers.”

He handed her a Bach piece that looked simple enough. “He works a long day. No wonder he is so thin.”

She took it, seeming not to notice their fingers touching. But the feel of her skin sent a bolt of awareness to his groin. “Do you think he might like to train as a baker? I know that is a hard life, but he would be out of the elements.”

“I rather thought him destined for the stage, with all his comedic routines and jokes.” They shared a smile. How would he find any pleasure in his mornings with her gone? “I’m going to miss you terribly, you know.”

She glanced up, as if afraid others in the room had heard, but with no mother, sister, or aunt present, who would censure? “That is a very kind sentiment, Captain. We have had some lovely mornings.”

“At least you’ll still be here for Christmas.”

Manfred came toward them, loudly requesting a round of Beethoven to drown out the idiocies of his cousin. Judah chuckled and made his good-byes. Magdalene was not working the next day, but he was.

 

“Captain?”

Judah pushed himself up and rubbed his eyes as his valet put a candle on the bedside table. His valet yawned, then quickly covered his mouth. In the dark, Judah wouldn’t have caught him if not for the man’s gesture.

“We both sleep in on Sundays. I am sorry for the inconvenience, Lawrence.”

His valet sneezed. “I am sorry, Captain. I did not wake early as planned. I think I have a fever. I slept badly.”

“What time is it?”

“Nine a.m.”

Half asleep, Judah couldn’t remember what his plan had been. “That’s all right, then. Plenty of time to intervene.” Judah reached for the dressing gown at the foot of his bed.

“It is too bad the boy is too stubborn to stay away.” Lawrence coughed.

“We do not know enough about his personal life to understand. Perhaps he is beaten if he doesn’t come home with money each day.”